Jakob lifted into the air and dropped on his back six feet away.
Ciara was again on her feet, trembling and wobbling but with the wind whipping her hair, and fire in her eyes. “I said, leave me alone.”
What a woman.
ESCAPEGOAT
Ciara jog-walked away from the villa and the battle dragon-Jakob was immersed in with the black snake people. She could not put enough distance between all of that nightmare and herself.
It was a good half an hour before she found anything resembling civilization. But finally, she saw lights up ahead. She pushed herself even more and made it into the town, if it could even be called that, in another ten or fifteen minutes.
This place was the definition of a sleepy little village, and it would be quaint if she didn't need to find a live human being with a phone. Not a single light was on in any of the windows. The place was dark, save for the streetlamps.
In a minute, she was going to just start shouting to see if anyone was alive in this place. She walked a few more feet, beginning to hobble a bit, should anyone want to look at her feet. Then, lo and behold, a payphone, so old Superman probably had changed outfits in it. She limped across the street, sure she was leaving bloody footprints as she went. The phone booth didn't have a door, more like metal hood toprotect it from the elements. She grabbed the handset and thanked the Lord there was a dial tone. But how did one place a collect call from a foreign country?
She punched the zero hoping to get an English-speaking operator. A man's voice came across the line and said a whole streak of words she didn't understand.
“Hello? Do you speak English by any chance?”
“Yes, a little. How can I help?”
“I need to make a call to the US.”
“Do you have a calling card?”
How was she supposed to explain that she been kidnapped by a dragon and left her wallet at home? “No, is there any other way to pay for the call?”
“I can connect you to a service that can provide you with minutes over the phone if you have a credit card.”
Once again, no wallet or purse. What she did have was a mind like a plastic trap. She used her Willingham Weddings business credit card so often on flower vendors, cake makers, and last-minute seamstresses, that she had the number memorized. Of course, her mother would flip out when she saw a bill for an international calling card. But dammit, this was an emergency.
She could practically hear her mother's voice saying, “your lack of planning does not constitute an emergency on my part.”
Not like she could have planned ahead for kidnapping. “Yes, I will do that option. Thank you.”
“Connecting you now.”
After a series of beeps and an automated voice, thankfully in English, Ciara entered the digits on the phone. She was given one hundred minutes for the price of one hundred crowns. She'd have to figure out how much that was later. Shepunched in the 01 to get through to America and then her mother's phone number. The line rang and rang.
Crud, what time was it in America? She didn't even know what time it was here. She wasn't even a hundred percent sure where here was. She was most likely in the Czech Republic, because Jakob had said his villa was not far from Prague. But how far was not far for someone who could fly thousands of miles?
Ciara figured that Europe was probably about six hours ahead of the East Coast, and it looked to be pretty late at night since nothing in this village was open.
She was sure she was going to get her mother's voicemail in another ring or two and thought about who else she could call.
“Why are you calling me at this hour Ciara Tara Mosley – Willingham?” Her mother's voice came through as clear as if they were standing ten feet apart. While the average person wouldn't hear the ire in her mother's voice, because her mother didn't allow that, Ciara cringed.
How had her mother known it was her? “Mother, I'm sorry, but this is an emergency.”
“You know how I feel about your emergencies.”
Yes, she did. “No, mother. This is actually an emergency I've been —”
“Call me in the morning at a reasonable hour, and when you have resolved your little crisis. I have clients who will need your attention.”
Before Ciara could even say the word kid, much less kidnapped, the line had gone dead.
She looked at the phone, and frost crystals grew over the handset.